A Stich in Time
by HermitsUnited
Summary: At the end of season one the Ninth Doctor sent Rose home. What if she never came back to save him? The universe turns this little bit less friendly, this little bit colder... Still, there's the TARDIS, a silly little thing on a street corner...
1. Alone

Foreword: Remember when in "Parting of the Ways" the Ninth Doctor sent Rose home? What if she never came back for him? What if the universe got this little bit colder, this little bit less friendly...? I have mixed feelings about this story, but it, kinda, writes itself, and since my Virtual Season Five seems to be writer's deadlocked... Why not let the story unfold? Please, review. And - don't let the first chapter mislead you - the story will pick up the pace (or so I hope) :):):)

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**A Stich in Time**

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**Chapter One**

**Alone**

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Can you imagine how hard it is to be alone? I bet you think you can.

Well, think again.

I first came to this country when I was twelve. I was made to come here. I didn't even speak the language; well, not good enough to blend in. I used to have a tight circle of friends back at home, but I had left them behind. There was a new home, a new country, a new school. Kids were ok, they just wouldn't talk to me. I haven't met any bullies though, and that was probably a blessing.

Count your blessings, Ania, count your blessings.

Then, several months ago, I had to move again. My dad had got that job he was always ranting about – a good job in a large company – and my mum had got a job as well – not as good as dad's, but reasonable – and they'd found a nice house, all freshly refurbished, and it was close to the tube station, and the bus stop, and there was this little newsagent on the street corner, and a large shopping centre just two bus stops away, and I hadn't got any say in it anyway. Nobody asked me.

The house was tiny; you know – two up, two down – with the narrowest stairs I have ever seen. My bedroom was cupboard-sized, but then, all I needed was a bed, a bookshelf and a laptop. My policy – the less you have, the easier to move.

My dad was out most of the time, working. My mum was out as well, doing overtimes to pay the mortgage. I went to a new school. No bullies as well. Nor friends.

My days were boring. Predictable and boring. Except, that when out of the school, and going home, I was walking the streets of the largest town I've ever seen in my life, domesticating this wild and cruel beast, taming London.

It is brilliant, you know? London. It swallows you whole and spits out your bones, but in a weirdly good way. You can fall in love with it so easily; it's enough if you walk its streets and keep your eyes open. Especially if you pick all the narrow and empty streets no travel guide speaks about.

So, fine, you go and see your Westminster and Big Ben first, then your Tower Bridge, and Piccadilly Circus, and the British Museum, and the Buckingham Palace, and Harrods, Soho and Nothing Hill, and St Paul's Cathedral, and 10 Downing Street, and Madame Tussauds, the Dungeon of London, and the O2 Arena. You pay through your nose for the tickets and bus passes, and sweets and treats, as you swim in the wave of other tourists, until you realise that you are no tourist anymore; for good or bad you are the Londoner. You live there. It is your home.

And then you begin to search all the „rooms" very carefully, inch by inch, to get this „feel of the land" that lets you get up in the middle of the night and walk all the way to the fridge in the kitchen downstairs, without switching on the lights. You begin to memorise the sounds – creaks and growls of your walls, gurgling of the plumbing, whistling in the chimney, traffic in the streets.

That's how I came to know London; how I learnt it by heart.

Alone.

It was spring; quite early spring. The kids had half term break at school, but my mum and dad didn't get any annual leave at work, so I was supposed to go visit my grandma on my own; but then this volcano in Iceland erupted and most flights were cancelled due to the plume of ashes endangering the planes' engines, and so I stayed at home. I was wandering the streets a lot, because my cupboard bedroom seemed to be suffocating me. I used to sit somewhere, on a bench or some stairs, and read my books. I was watching other kids running in their little herds, all chatty and happy and loud. I was watching the trees burst into bloom, the sky turn into lapis-lazuli, the new wave of tourists flood the embankments. I used to return home by dusk, walking my favourite narrow streets and feeling incredibly lonely.

And it was then when I noticed something I've never seen there before.

It was a box. A tall, pale blue box. There was a sign above its door saying „POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX". I had no idea what it was supposed to mean. I had seen my share of red and black telephone boxes, but this was… different.

The blue box was dusty and old; the paint dingy and peeling off; the little windows shattered. Weeds surrounding the box's plinth grew so tall, some of them were actually reaching its roof. Ivy was working its way inside the box through broken glass and cracked wood. There was a holly bush guarding the way to the box's door – something I would often see in the village I'd lived before, but not a common sight in central London.

But the weirdest thing was – I walked down this street million times before. I passed this street corner on my way almost each day, and I've never, ever noticed the box. But it wasn't new. It seemed ingrown – almost melted into the greenery and rubble. It must have stood there for ages.

I walked closer and bent forward, trying to avoid sharp edges of holly leaves. Then I pushed the door. Nothing happened, it was closed. I just turned away and walked home.

But that night I had a dream. A panoramic dream. A high definition, Dolby stereo, 3D dream. I woke up with a start and anxiously tried to grasp at the dream, as it was melting away in the daylight. What was it about? Why was there a blue box in my dream?

In the morning I ran all the way to the street corner, half expecting that the box would be gone. No, it was still there. The day was grey and sunless, and the box looked even more derelict and old. I found a stick and pacified the holly bush creating a path leading to the box's door. Then I knocked.

Which was funny, since I didn't expect anybody to actually _live_ in the box.

Still, the door squeaked open.

It was dark inside, and it smelled of damp and mould. But it also smelled of something else – a thousand fragrances and smells, all mixed together and not quite unpleasant, drifted in the air. I wished I had a torch. I looked back over my shoulder at the narrow and deserted street.

'Bye, London,' I thought with sudden sadness. I didn't know why. Not like I was _going_ somewhere, except of going inside the box.

Then I crossed the threshold. As I did so, the door swung closed with a loud bang, and I was surrounded by darkness. I stretched my hands in front of me and moved a step forward, expecting to touch the opposite wall. Then I made another step and another, and another, walking slightly upwards, as if the floor was climbing. Finally I stopped – my heart pounding – in complete darkness. I still couldn't reach the wall – none of them. I waved my arm around and my hand hit a low, metal railing. I grabbed it and held on for my dear life.

Because now… I could hear something… A whisper…

The faintest of whispers, so distant, so weak, and yet so powerful. Somebody was talking to me in a strange language, quietly hissing, and growling and rustling, and… singing. The voice wasn't louder than my own breath or heartbeat, but it was very real. It was quiet, but it was clear. Whatever language it was speaking in, it was telling a tale of sadness.

"Who… Who's there?" I whispered. "Is there anybody here?"

The darkness sighed.

"I… I can't see you," I continued. "It's too dark. Are you all right? Are you hurt? Can I help you?"

Somebody sobbed.

"Please, I don't know where you are, it's too dark in here!" I said nervously. "I'll open the door, ok?"

I turned and tried to walk back to the door, but I just caught my hip on the railing. I grabbed it and walked alongside – it seemed to be curving slightly inwards. My hand was wiping a thick layer of dust as I kept moving it along the rail. One thing was for sure – nobody disturbed this dust for years.

And then it hit me!

I was walking and walking, and I was inside the blue box. None of the box's walls were wider than two steps. Yet I was walking inside, never able to touch the wood I'd seen from the outside.

The box was bigger on the inside!

"Oh… my…"

Suddenly I panicked, let go of the railing and rushed forward. I collided with something large, bounced back and fell to the floor. My fingers grabbed the holes in a metal mesh covering the floor, and the back of my head connected with wooden planks.

With a painful squeak the door opened and grey light rushed into the blue box. I lain sprawled on its floor, my legs bent, tips of my trainers touching the opposite wall. There was no railing inside, no mesh on the floor. Just an unusual amount of spider webs, covering everything like dirty rags.

But… But…

I got up to my feet slowly, dusting off my backside. I felt last shreds of dignity leaving me as I was looking around and seeing nothing else but the insides of a desolate wooden container. I grabbed the doorframe, ready to run away.

"_Don't… want… die…_"

It was as faint as a faraway rustle.

"_Don't… die…_"

I turned again.

"Who…?"

"_So… alone… now… So… lonely…_"

I ran all the way back home.

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**_To be continued..._**

_Author's note: No, I am NOT Ania. I am a LOT older. Still, I'd love to find the TARDIS on the street corner. It'd probably be just a prop or a bit of the Exhibition, though... Still, wouldn't it be lovely?_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I do not own London neither. Nor the Moon. Still, I can write about them:)_


	2. The Message

**Chapter Two**

**The Message**

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"Anka! Ania! I have to go now!"

My mum's voice woke me up from a nightmare. I gasped as I sat up in my bed.

"I'm leaving, yeah?" Mum was shouting from downstairs. I could almost see her, standing on the stairs' landing, one hand on a wooden banister, head tilted, her lovely dark hair falling on her shoulders. "Ania, promise me you won't be wandering the streets again. Ok? Baby, you know it's not safe! All the knife crime and all. Please, don't leave home!"

I moaned. "I won't, mum."

"What?"

"I won't!"

"Just stay here, darling, watch some telly, yeah? I'll be back as soon as I can!"

She's never tried to watch the daytime TV.

"Sure."

"Love you!"

"Love you, mum."

The front door banged and I was alone again. I was sitting in my bed, my pyjamas soaked with perspiration. I was afraid to go back to sleep.

The creatures. They resembled large, metallic cones, moving about purposefully and… and shooting rays of green energy… They were quite silly – big pepper-pots – and yet they scared the hell out of me.

I decided to stop reading science fiction for a while. And no more Stephen King's horrors.

I even had a name for my metallic monsters.

"Daleks." As I spoke the word out loud, a chill rushed through my body. I shivered. "Daleks."

Two hours later I was standing in front of the blue box, still shivering, although now I was wearing my tattered jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket. I was drilling a hole in the dirt with a tip of my shoe. It was raining, and my hair was soaked. I kept my hands deep in my pockets, fingers of my right hand squeezed on a small torch. I looked at the patch of grass and rubble surrounding the box. There was only one set of footprints, still visible, regardless the rain. My footprints, I had left here the day before.

"So what _are_ the Daleks?" I asked. I glared at the blue box. "What are _you_?"

The box was quiet.

"I know it was you," I said harshly. "There's something inside you. Something… that makes me crazy… I had a nightmare last night because of you."

An elderly man walked past me. He gave me the look. He must have thought I was mental, talking to myself. He could have been right.

"Fine," I whispered. "Fine."

I grasped the torch even harder and walked up to the blue door. I pushed it only to find it locked again.

"Oh, don't give me that!" I snorted. "I _know_, I got inside yesterday. _Inside_, inside. So, just let me in, will you?"

'Like a door to Narnia,' I thought. 'Like an old wardrobe, leading to a different world.'

"Just let me _in_!"

The door opened slightly. I lit the torch and drew a deep breath.

"Ok," I said. "That's better. Thank you."

With my heart pounding in my chest I stepped inside. I was expecting to see the small compartment, all covered in spider webs, but then I was also expecting to see something else. I didn't quite know what. What I saw though… No, I wasn't expecting _that_.

I had to fight myself not to step back, just to make sure I would be still in front of an old blue police box. I was afraid that if I did, the vision would be gone, never to return again. So I just walked inside quickly.

It resembled an underwater cave. But it wasn't a cave. There was something in the middle, a crystal column surrounded by a round console, full of strange instruments – switches and handles, screens and buttons. Twisting pillars were bending over the central bit of the cave – room. They looked a bit like carbonised trees in the darkness. The walls; so incredibly distant; were dotted with slightest spots of light. It was orange and warm, but very faint. It was pulsating slowly, like a gigantic, old, tired heart.

I walked slowly from the door to the central pillar and touched one of the screens. The sensation was pleasant. As I moved my hand back, an orange thread lit up in the air, following my fingers. It rippled like a ribbon. I shook my hand, to get rid of it, suddenly afraid that it could harm me.

"What… on Earth… is that?" I whispered.

Slowly, I circled the console. The items imbedded in a strange metal or stone were a weirdest mixture of known and unknown. There was a pump, very much like an old bicycle pump, and a wheel that resembled a plastic element of a wheelbarrow. There was some sort of a counter. There were levers and handles, some of them metal, some wooden, some alike to antique doorknobs and some looking like futuristic spaceship's instruments. There was a hammer hanging on a bit of a string. There were scraps of paper covered in unrecognisable writing. There were little post-it notes stuck to the screen I had touched. And inside the crystal column, there were greenish, see-through tubes, waiting inertly for… for something…

Suddenly something blinked into life to my right. I gasped and jumped away, but it was just an image of a man in a black leather jacket – a projection of some sort, a hologram. The man had a funny face – large ears, and a long nose – but he seemed sad. So very, very sad. His lips moved. He was talking.

I tried not to breathe to catch his words – they were so quiet.

"_This is Emergency Programme One_…" the man said. I had to breathe in and out and in again. I was shivering badly.

"…_this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing. We must be in danger. And I mean, fatal. I'm dead or about to die any second with no chance of escape…_"

I reached out slowly. My hand went through the projection. The bluish image rippled slightly.

"_And that's okay. Hope it's a good death_…"

I felt like crying. No, I was crying already. Silly old Ania. Waterworks always at the ready. I sobbed and sniffled, and lost a little bit of what the projection was saying.

"…_can never return for me. Emergency Programme One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do: let the TARDIS die_."

"What?" I whispered.

"…_just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it; no one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world will move on and the box will be buried. And if you wanna remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all. One thing._"

Tears rolled down my cheeks when the image of the man turned his face towards me, as if he knew I was there.

"_Have a good life_," he said quietly. "_Do that for me, Rose. Have a fantastic life._"

And he was gone.

The place was desolate again, and very quiet. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Thoughts were rolling through my head like stormy clouds across the sky. TARDIS. Rose. Enemy. Emergency Programme One. What was that supposed to mean? What was this place? Why was it bigger on the inside sometimes, and sometimes just as tiny as it should logically be? Why there was a transmission playing out of the blue; a transmission definitely not meant for me? Why was I able to open the box, when it was supposed to gather dust and die? Die? How could a box die? How could it all be possible?

"C… can I see it again?" I whispered harshly. "The message?"

Silence.

"Who was it? Did he die? Did he really die?"

Silence. But I had an impression that something started building, like a distant tsunami wave. It was like a weather front changing before a torrent. I could feel my hair rising. I crossed my arms on my chest.

"Who was that man?" I repeated.

Then it came – golden light. It erupted from the multitude of round formations embedded in the walls. It streamed across the room, whirling and twisting, brilliant and beautiful and so, _so_ much alive.

I heard voices; voices in my head. Some of them I couldn't understand. And the rest…

"_Time Lord…_" voices whispered. "_Time Lord...the last of the Time Lords, the last of a wise and ancient race..._"

"An alien?" I croaked.

"…_such a lonely boy_…"

"He seemed human," I said weakly. "Are Time Lords human?"

"…_such a power… the Oncoming Storm… Time Lord…_"

"No, I guess they're not," I answered my own question. "But who was he? Why…?"

"_The Doctor!_" voices in my head sang. "_The Doctor!_"

The room was overflowing with light. It was so bright I had to close my eyes. I reached out and grabbed the console. Something slammed loudly.

"The door," I thought. "Oh, my God, it's the door."

I managed to open my eyes a little, and I started inching back towards the exit, when the central column came to life. It whooshed suddenly and rose and then fell heavily. I screamed. The glass pipes inside the column rose again, and fell again, and then they picked up a heavy but powerful rhythm, like some ancient engine. The whooshing sound become deafening. The floor jerked, running away from beneath my feet. I fell backwards and hit the floor hard again. There was light and voices and whooshing. The room was shaking and trembling, and screaming in final extortion. I felt my ears popping like on a plane during the take off. The floor tilted and I rolled across the room, to stop against one of the pillars. I grabbed its cold base and held for my dear life.

Glass pipes rose and fell for the last time.

The floor was still, and the room was quiet.

For a while I laid curled on the floor, then the panic got the better of me and I jumped to my feet frantically. I ran across the room, reached the door and jerked them open.

Next moment, I was hanging by the door latch, floating in the air… No, not air… Floating in space.

My fingers went white, I held on so hard. I looked down, and I saw my feet in dusty old Converses, kicking desperately, but in slow motion, and below them… below them…

Stars.

Not the stars you can see from your front garden. Stars in space. Dazzlingly bright jewellery of nebulas and galaxies against the deepest blackness of the void.

I was hanging by my fingertips over the colossal vastness of the outer space.

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**_To be continued..._**

_Author's note: I love the scene with Amy Pond (and I don't want to spoil fun to anybody, so I won't write which one). And, no, the TARDIS still not mine._


	3. The Lonely Traveller

**Chapter Three**

**The Lonely Traveller**

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Climbing onboard was a difficult task, but it had to be done. Now I was sitting in the open door, staring into space. Really, _staring into space_.

In all the books I'd red the void would suck me out of the box the moment the door opened. The void would suck me out of the box even if the door wasn't open, because the box was made of old, wooden planks, full of holes and cracks. But then, the blue box had nothing to do among the stars. How did it even get there? How was it going to get back to Earth? And where was Earth? Where was the whole blooming Solar System?

"I want to go home," I said aloud. "I want to go back!"

I scrambled to my feet.

"Some sort of a force-field, right?" I said pointing to the space outside. "And it extends beyond the door, so I can breathe outside. I didn't freeze to death either. The box is protected in a way. I must assume it is safe for space travel. I have no other choice."

I snorted. "Space travel in a wooden box. This is rich!"

I closed the door and looked back, at the central column in the middle of a vast room.

"How did they squeeze all that into such a small thing?" I asked. "They could certainly play on dimensions, these Time Lords. It's like a… like a… spatial… displacement… or multidimensional realignment… Or something… Or maybe the box is just a portal leading here, so the inside does not necessarily have to occupy the same space as the box… Or I should go home and read some more science fiction." I chuckled. "Good to have some scientific background, though. Even if it's fictional."

Then, somehow reassured by the sound of my own voice, I decided that a little reconnaissance wouldn't do any harm. I walked briskly across the room and dived into one of the corridors…

Several hours later I was standing at the bottom of a spiral staircase, tired and dispirited and completely lost. Did I say the ship was bigger on the inside? What an understatement! It was positively enormous! Even ruined and derelict, it was still incredibly vast and beautiful. The staircase, for instance – it seemed fragile and sweet like twisted liquorice. It didn't resemble anything built – it seemed alive; or barely alive – a living creature's conch fitted into the ship's interior.

Then there were rooms – hundreds of them. Some completely ruined, some preserved under layers of dust. The library was gorgeous – very old-fashioned with highly decorated mahogany bookshelves, polished desks, inkwells and pens, discrete brass lamps with green-tinted glass lampshades, and with a faded armchair in the middle of the room. On a little round table next to the armchair I found a cracked china cup resting on a plate. Oh, yeah, there was even an antique gramophone, the one with a large, flower-shaped tube. The collection of books was absolutely gob-smacking. Some of them were written in alphabets or symbols I didn't recognise at all.

There was a bedroom – one of many, as big as a tennis court, the soft floor strewn with cushions and pillows and blankets; the walls seemingly see-through and opening to a breathtaking panorama of nebulas and supernovas.

There was a dead garden full of stone sculptures, hidden amongst leafless trees and waterless ponds.

There was a swimming pool, weirdly shaped and tilled in tiny, mosaic tiles in all shades of turquoise and gold.

There was a room full of clothes and mirrors, and if you ever visited a big theatrical storeroom, you can begin to imagine how it looked and smelled like.

There were dinning rooms, and play-rooms, and drawing rooms, and bathrooms, and tea-rooms, and kitchens, and cupboards, and engine-rooms, and storage rooms, and empty rooms, and hallways, and toilets, and workshops, and endless corridors. I got lost several times, but somehow I was always directed towards the central staircase. Now I was standing at its bottom, completely exhausted, wondering at how big the place was, and feeling an overwhelming sadness at the state of it.

There were signs of somebody living inside this ship, but they were all covered with a layer of dust. Whoever had lived here, left a long time ago. The ship was abandoned. I was the only living thing onboard.

I climbed up the stairs (it took me another half an hour to reach the top) and went back to the steering room. I was spellbound with the ship's beauty, but mostly I was knackered and depressed. Hungry as well. It was hours since I left the Earth. Days maybe.

"Please," I said towards the crystal rota of the ship. "I want to go home."

I circled the steering panel, gently touching the instruments and screens. They seemed alive under my fingers.

"It is beautiful, Ship, oh, it is, but… It's so empty…" I sighed.

The ship sighed as well.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, "I'm so sorry, but you have to let me go. Take me back. Please, just take me back."

Silence.

I rested my hands on the switches and levers, enjoying a tiny vibration of the panel. Something was spinning within the depths of the ship; the energy was still flowing and turning the old clogs of this wondrous machinery. It was sentenced to death, and yet it survived.

"Ok," I sighed. "What do I do? How do I fly you? Any hints?"

Silence.

But then I spotted a tiny scribble underneath one of the switches. It was written in faded ink on a sepia coloured scrap of paper. Maybe it should be a warning, but all I could see were minuscule letters – English letters – forming words FAST RETURN.

"Oh, God, thank you, thank you!"

I said a quick prayer and flipped the switch.

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_**To be continued...**_


	4. The Fast Return Switch

**Chapter Four**

**The Fast Return Switch**

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I understand much more of the TARDIS's mechanics (or biology) these days, but when I first "met" her, I knew nothing at all. It was amazing and impossible, and it kidnapped me – that was more or less all I knew. So, I pressed the Fast Return switch on the console, and I, kinda, believed it would take me home.

The moment the ship jumped out of the rut of the temporal orbit and plunged into a time vortex, I knew I had done something wrong. I was thrown across the steering room and I landed curled under a tattered car seat mounted on rusty suspension springs. From under the chair I watched a scary spectacle of sparks showering from the walls, and flames exploding from the console, and even electric discharges in the crystal column. The noise was deafening – wheezing, and roaring, and thudding, and grating. The floor was shaking badly, throbbing under my hands and knees, jerking up and down and sideways, as if the ship decided it had enough of me and wanted to lose me. Then there was a final jolt which sent me face down on the metal mesh floor, and everything become very, very still.

My right hand was bleeding and I had a cut across the bridge of my nose, but other than that I was fine. I scrambled to my feet and swayed across the room and ramp to finally reach the door. I pulled it open and jumped outside, so very eager to escape. I was still mid-jump when I realised my mistake.

I didn't go back.

It wasn't London.

It wasn't the Earth.

I was in a corridor made of pressed metal sheets, lighted only by one lamp swivelling madly above the huge, airlock type door. The lamp's light was circling the floor, the walls and the ceiling madly, producing almost stroboscopic images. There was a man, sitting on the floor; legs spread wide, head dropped, empty hands resting on his tights palms up in a piercing image of defeat and resignation. I must have caused some tremor to the floor as I jumped out of the blue box, because as I landed, the man's body tilted slightly to the right and then slid slowly to the floor. He just lain there; his hands in between his thighs, his head crooked, his blue eyes opened wide in terror.

Was he dead?

"_It is the Doctor_! _He is back!_" screeched a bloodcurdlingly mechanical voice somewhere behind the blue box. I started and shouted out in fear.

'_The Doctor is back! Exterminate! Exterminate_!'

'_The Doctor has been exterminated_!_ The Doctor is dead!_'

'_It_ _is the Doctor's TARDIS! Board the time ship!_'

'_Capture the TARDIS! Capture the TARDIS! Capture the TARDIS!_'

The mad, vicious voices carried over the roof of the blue box, and I was very glad that it slam-banged itself neatly in the narrow corridor, blocking the way to anyone who wanted to capture it and exterminate the Doctor. Still, wooden planks didn't seem strong enough to stop the bullets, or energy blast that started banging on the box's walls. Green flashes gushed all around the ships sides, and a trembling, sharp whiz of explosions made me cower next to the blue-eyed man.

"Oh my God!" I moaned. "What's going on? What is it? What the hell is this?!"

"_The TARDIS is shielded! Assume another route of approach!_"

"_We obey!_"

"_Open the airlock in the corridor one!_"

Whoever they were, they were now banging at the door I sheltered below. I shrieked in fear, torn in between fright of the voices and fright of the ship.

"_The TARDIS is a weapon! The TARDIS will be intercepted!_"

"_The TARDIS will be used as an ultimate weapon of the Daaaleks' Empire!_"

"_Daaaleks reign supreme! Daleks reign supreme!_"

I grabbed the blue-eyed man's arm and shook it. It was numb and heavy.

"Help me!"

"_Sensors show a huuuuman behind the door!_"

"_The huuuuman is alive?_"

There was a momentary silence, then the maddening shrill voices resumed with a doubled urgency:

"_The huuuman will open the doooor! Obey! Obey!_"

"Oh, you wish…" I gasped breathlessly. I was unconsciously pulling at the man's arm and I managed to move him away from the door and drag him a few feet across the floor. I looked back, at the open doors of the ship, at the amber light radiating from the inside, and in that instant the decision has been made. Compared to the alien heartlessness of the voices in the corridor, the alien ship was as cosy as my own bed. It was as human and safe as anything. When choosing between two dangers, the blue box seemed the lesser evil.

I grunted as I pulled the man across the threshold. He was tall and well built, and his inertness made him even heavier; but fear gave me unexpected strength of released adrenaline pumping through my veins.

"_The huuuman will surrender!_"

"_The huuuman will open the door!_"

"_Obey! Obey!_"

The man's legs were sticking out of the ship. I growled, bent down, grabbed them under the knees and pulled up, then to the side, until whole of the man's body was inside and I could shut the door. I rested my back against the door; all sweaty, scared but also relieved. Then I reconsidered. All I would have in between me and the owners of piercing voices once the metal lock gives way, would be a thin layer of wood. Not distantly enough to protect me.

I rushed towards the steering console and hesitated with my index finger suspended over the fast return switch. It was just for a second, a tick, one heartbeat. Then I flipped the switch.

The rota started moving up and down, and a whooshing sound rolled over the steering room. I could still hear shrieks from behind the door:

"_The TARDIS dematerialising! Stop the TARDIS! Exterminate the huuuman female!" _

"_Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"_

* * *

**_To be continued..._**

_Disclaimer: If Daleks were mine I would leave them gold and black. But, well, they are not mine... My brilliant baddies:)_


	5. The Dead

**Chapter Five**

**Mourning the Dead**

* * *

The ship assumed the temporal orbit again (or, as I thought then, just stopped to hover somewhere in deep space). I was badly shaken and a little nauseous. My body hurt – I bruised my elbows and knees, I had cuts and grazes, and I pulled my back dragging the man's heavy body onboard. I was so scared I could hardly think, but one impulse was stronger than all the worries and aches. I had to check on the man.

The ramp was too narrow and dark to examine my unexpected companion. Gasping and grunting I pulled him all the way towards the steering panel, where the light seemed the brightest, I rolled him on his back, tilted his head and bent over, moving my ear and cheek close to the man's open lips. There was no breath, and I didn't expect any, seeing how the man's lips were bluish, and his eyes fixed and glossy. He was dead. I touched his neck. It was cool, but it wasn't cold. He couldn't have been dead for long.

Yes, it was scary. It was petrifying. But there are moments when everything you are shifts to a completely different level of thinking and reacting. Sometimes such moments render you useless. On other occasions they make you act.

So I acted.

I tilted the dead man's head even more, pinched his nostrils, pressed my lips to his cold mouth and exhaled, pumping the air into his still lungs. And again. I moved a little bit on my knees, opened the man's vest quickly and run my fingers down his sternum to find a right spot. Then my fingers interlaced as if on their own, the heel of my right hand digging into the man's body; I lifted up from the floor, squared my shoulders, stiffened my elbows and I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Two breaths and chest contractions, breaths and chest contractions – the process was almost mindless, automatic. I was dizzy and my shoulders hurt, but I could not stop.

'He's dead,' a little voice inside my head kept repeating. 'You can't save him, he's dead. He's been dead a long time before you arrived. There's nothing you can do. He's dead.'

I used to be a life guard's assistant back at school and if there was one thing I had learned from him, it was CPR. But my strength was failing, and I felt I could not go on for much longer.

"Come on!" I yelled. "Come back, come on, _breathe_, damn you! _Breathe_!"

'He's dead,' the little voice insisted. 'Did you really think you could resurrect him? You're not a god.'

"_Come ON_!" I bellowed, putting my hands together and striking the man's sternum with what was left of my strength. "Kick in, you stupid heart! _COME ON_!"

The man's eyes stared up. They were not glossy anymore, as their surface started drying up. They were vacant and they were dead.

I slumped heavily on my backseat next to the dead man. I was defeated and angry at the same time. It was all pointless, useless, I was useless and I was alone…

"There's nothing I can do!" I yelled at the ship's rota, the closest thing to a sentient creature I could find at that moment. "What am I good for? Huh? I can't help! I can't help him! I can't help you! I'm useless!"

The ship was murmuring quietly. It infuriated me even more.

"I want to go home! Take me home, take me home, _take me home_! Take me back home, you dumb brute!"

With the corner of my eye I saw something flickering. I snapped my head up, but it was just the holographic projection of a man in a black leather jacket. This time the picture was jerky like a rough montage. And the message was different. It sounded as if glued from many fragments; the voice uneven, pitch and tone changing, some words almost completely mangled. The hologram of the man repeated over and over:

"_This machine… is… facing a… fatal… enemy. And you can do one thing… Activate life… Open… this old box. Open… me."_

"What?" I growled. "What do you mean? Open you how? Open the door?"

"_No… Move… little thing… you… facing… Open… emergency… thing… you… facing…_"

It was even more forced, as if the hologram was grasping for words, gluing them together as it spoke. Only, it wasn't the hologram at all, I thought suddenly. Or it was, in a sense that it was a part of the machine, the ship, talking to me using the only means of communication it could find at such a short notice.

I was facing the console – so incredibly complicated and alien. Each and every switch or lever could be the 'emergency thing' the ship was talking about. For a second I felt hopeless, but then a very simple idea flashed through my mind. I got up heavily and marched to the console.

"All right," I said. "Which little thing?"

I moved my hand towards a serrated wheel imbedded in the panel. "This one."

"_No_…" the hologram answered immediately.

I moved my hand slightly to the right towards a row of switches. "Switch number one?"

"_No_…"

"Switch number two?"

"_No_…"

The process of elimination was slow, and it seemed I exhausted all the options, when the machine suddenly said: "_Move_…"

My hand halted in mid gesture, hovering over the panel. "What? There is nothing here? What am I supposed to move?"

"_Move_…" the machine repeated stubbornly.

I sighed and landed my hand on the rough surface. I moved my fingers up and down, feeling for hidden buttons or switches, then slid my hand under the desktop and touched the bottom of the console.

"_MOVE_…" shouted the ship.

My fingers found a small protrusion, and I dug my fingernails in a tiny fissure in at its bottom. I pulled. Something clicked.

"_Now; listen…_" the ship uttered. "_This is important… you're… in danger… Must… escape… Do… no… notice… li…it…_"

"What?!" I asked.

"_Do… no… notice… li…it…_"

But by then I knew what the ship meant. Do not look into the light. Because light is dangerous. Must escape.

Well, tough. It was too late, anyway.

A whole panel of the steering console lifted up, and in the gap appeared a swirl of brightly orange light. It was undulating like a liquid, pulsating with strands of energy. The very centre of the light was painfully white. It seemed the whole room darkened, and only the orange radiation remained, so bright, it was burning.

The light streamed towards me, across me, to reach the dead man on the floor. It cocooned him with amber glow, swelled to ultraviolet whiteness, and expanded, soaking everything in its rays.

The light was full of voices and shadows. It was brimming with thoughts and ideas. It carried a terrible knowledge of everything that was, everything that is, everything that could ever be. And it burned like fire and acid and love.

"_Danger… fatal…_" the ship said. "_Do… no… notice… li… it…_"

With a sigh that resembled a sob I stretched my arms in front of me, found the edge of the panel, and leaned on it, with all my strength pushing it back down. The light was piercing my brain, so I screwed my eyes, and pushed harder. Even with my eyes closed, I could see everything through my eyelids – reddish and gold, and so true. I wanted more, but I knew somehow, that I was burning already, so with a final heave I slammed the panel shut.

The light died.

My head was swimming.

In this brief moment I have learnt more than I would learn throughout my whole life.

And now the knowledge was killing me.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_


	6. Two Lazaruses in a Row

**Chapter Six**

**Two Lazaruses in a Row**

* * *

I made a shaky step backwards. My hands were glowing, but they were not blistered as I had expected. Just surrounded by amber light – energy of a time vortex. Not something you have running through your body every day.

"Aaaaargh!"

I turned my head very cautiously, to look at the dead man on the floor. With a horrible yell he sprang up to a sitting position and was now staring at me; his blue eyes popping out of his handsome face.

"Who…? What…? Who…?" he gasped.

"Oh my god," I whined, afraid that a terrible headache I had would split my head in two. "Please, help me!"

I staggered and reached out towards the man, but he jumped away, unusually quickly for someone who was dead just a few seconds ago.

"Whoa!" he shouted.

A beam of light shot out from my fingers, connected with the metal railing and atomised it in a blink of an eye. The orange afterimage of the railing dispersed after a second of delay, dematerialising in a cloud of green and gold energy.

"Whoa!" I repeated the man's exclamation.

"What the hell _are_ you?" the man asked angrily. "And where is the Doctor?"

"Dead," I whispered. There was amber light coming out of my mouth like a warm puff of breath on a cold day. "All dead."

"What?" The man glared at me unbelievingly. "No, he can't be dead! Not him! He was finishing the Delta Wave while we… Oh, no, he couldn't… He… Is he really…?"

"Dead," I said.

"Was I… was I…" he stammered hopelessly.

"Dead," I supplied quietly. "You were dead. You were brought back. I brought you back. I looked into the light. Into the heart of the ship. I was shown the truth. The whole truth. I can see the beginning and the end. But it's horribly painful. Help me."

"I don't even know what it means," the man said cautiously. "I only saw it happen once. And the old girl turned into an egg."

He quickly looked down at his own torso; as if afraid he somehow turned into something egg-ish.

"Anyway, who are you and what have you done with Rose?" he growled.

"Rose?" I swayed and slumped on the floor. "Rose's gone. He wanted her gone. She's home. She's safe."

My head was bursting with pain. The world around me went blurry and orange. There were images – possibilities – flying through my mind at such a speed, I couldn't consciously follow their procession. I did, though, unconsciously, and I made a frightening discovery. Whatever direction I tried to go, wherever I turned my thoughts to, everything ended in darkness and in silence.

"Death," I whimpered, clutching at my temples. "Everywhere. It's death. Wherever you go, it all ends in death. All things die. Even stars. Even galaxies. Even you. The time itself…"

"A damn bucket of laughs you are," the man snapped, but he didn't sound all that surprised.

I pressed my hands to the floor and interlaced my fingers with the metal mesh. The ship was the only constant in the whirlpool of alien knowledge. It was soothingly calm and quiet. It seemed to be watching me, puzzled. It was making small sounds of compassion and indecision.

"Help me…" I whispered.

All went blank.

But it wasn't then when I died. That happened later… much later…

I regained consciousness, still in the steering room, curled on the metal floor, but covered with an awful, furry coat smelling of moth balls. My headache subsided. I managed to look up, and saw the man we (me and the ship) had brought back to life. He was leaning over the ship's console, squinting at buttons and levers with an expression of deepest concentration on his angular, handsome (and slightly cheesy) face. As I stared, he hesitantly moved his hand and touched one of the switches. He screwed his eyes even more, inhaled and flipped the switch. The floor underneath me jumped, shivered and tilted, rolling me towards the railing, and in the process wrapping me in the coat until I resembled a furry tortilla.

"Damn!" The man reached up from under the steering panel and flipped the switch back. The ship calmed down. "How does he do that?"

"Don't tell me you can't fly it." I unwrapped myself from the coat and got to my feet.

The man gave me the look.

"I sure can," he snapped. "Just brushing up on the basics."

I sighed. "Yeah, right."

The man gave me the look again, and then he smiled unexpectedly. He had brilliantly blue eyes and a lot of white teeth.

"We got off on a wrong foot, didn't we?" he said as he circled the steering panel with his hand outstretched. "Let's do it properly. The name's Harkness, Captain Jack Harkness."

His hand was rough but warm. He was _so_ alive.

"I'm…" I began before I even realised that the man was going in for a kiss. I snapped my head to the side, and his lips landed on my cheek. "…Ania…"

"_Nice_ to meet you, Ania," he breathed into my ear.

I freed my hand and moved back to restore my personal space he'd just invaded.

"I'm _fifteen_!" I said pointedly.

The man chuckled. "I was just saying hello."

"Hello," I growled and looked down at my own hand. It wasn't glowing anymore, and my headache was more or less gone.

"What happened?" I asked a bit groggily.

"You just keeled over and that light, that energy, simply drained out of you. The TARDIS absorbed it. For a moment I thought you were dead." Jack shrugged slightly. "You still didn't tell me who the hell you were. What are you doing here, in the TARDIS? And why is the TARDIS so… ran-down? I mean, it looks even more squalid than ever. And where is Rose? He said he'd sent her back home, back in time, to when she would be safe. You said so as well. Just before you swooned away."

"Back in time?" I repeated. "So that's what the ship is? A time machine?"

To be honest, I already knew that, but I still wanted to actually _hear_ it.

"A time and space machine," Jack said. "It moves in four dimensions."

"And this is the future?" I made sure.

"It's the year 200100, and we were on board the Satellite Five." Jack scratched his cheek. "Well, now it seems that we are in the temporal orbit, which is sort of… nowhere and… never."

I walked over to the tattered seat and flopped down on it with a sigh.

"200100?" I repeated. "_200100?_ This ship took me to 200100?"

"Yeah," Jack admitted. "Just… why? And… how?"

"I've found it on a street corner," I said after a beat. "It was just… standing there, gathering dust. It looked as if it had been standing there forever, only I'd never noticed it before."

"The cloaking circuit's failure?" Jack whispered, bending over the console. "What year was that?"

"2010."

He held his breath for a moment. "Right."

"What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, but I could swear it was _something_. "Was it abandoned? How did you get inside?"

"I just walked in. It was open. Well… it opened for me. And then it took me here, into space. I managed to find something called a fast return button, which sent me to… to where… or when… I found you. There were the Daleks behind the corridor's door, trying to get through, to capture the ship. So I dragged you inside and I pushed the same button again. And… Jack… you were dead. I gave you CPR, but it wasn't enough, so the ship… the TARDIS… helped… I think. There was this light… I looked into the light…"

"Yeah, but _who_ _are you_?" Jack was staring at me intently.

"I'm… nobody…" I whispered. "I'm just a girl."

Jack's smile was gone now, and his eyes were cloudy and serious.

"He was right," he said, "about all the small moments and ordinary people. Crazy old Doctor…"

He looked at me as if calculating something.

"If you selected the fast return then why the TARDIS reappeared in the corridor?" he asked. "It should go back to the Doctor. To the controller's room."

"The Doctor is dead," I said quietly.

Jack started angrily. "You can't know that! He must be still there, finishing the Wave. That is it! He just needs more time."

I bit my lips.

"Look," Jack said in a trembling voice. "He can't be dead. You said the Daleks were still alive and they wouldn't be if he deployed the Wave. Nothing would be alive, not in the station, not on Earth. The Wave would kill every being… Unless…"

He turned suddenly and slammed his fist on the console. "Damn it all! I believed him! I was ready to die, to give him time to save us! The people. Humans all over the universe! And the Doctor failed? How could he fail?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I'm sorry. The Daleks said he was dead. They could have been lying."

"They don't lie. For all it's worth, they are bloody veracious. Guess everybody needs at least one fucking virtue." Jack Harkness turned his head away. I thought he was just trying to hide tears, but I couldn't be sure. "I think we should try and figure out these controls," he said finally, his voice strangled. "Fly her back home."

I just nodded. Jack bent down, stroking odd levers with his fingertips. Suddenly his fist plummeted down and smashed something on the dashboard. Bits of plastic, or maybe glass, rained down on the floor and through the metal mesh to some lower levels of the ship.

"He _sold_ us to the Daleks!" Jack yelled. "He gave up! The bloody Doctor, the great hero, always so wise, always so… so… brave!"

He swirled round and kicked at what was left of the railing.

"He had no right to give up! Those people there, they died defending the Earth below! I watched them dying, one by one! And they all threw their lives away so that _he_ could send the Daleks to hell! He had no right to fail! You don't fail something like that! Not when the fate of the world is at stake! Not when there are people who trust you! You just can't! You can't! You can't put your hands up and die! You… you fight! To the end! You _fight_!"

It seemed that his knees gave way, as he suddenly sat down on the floor, hiding his face in his folded arms. He was crying now, there was no doubt about that.

I was sitting there in uncomfortable silence. I didn't understand the depth of his distress, although the things he was talking about seemed familiar. The ship's knowledge, transmitted on the wave of amber radiation, left some dim afterimages in my mind – the danger of the Daleks, the importance of running away and hiding, and, foremost, a sensation of great, desperate loss. Just like Jack I understood that the Doctor was fighting the Daleks, but, for some reason neither of us could understand, he gave up, he failed, and he lost. In losing, he forfeited more than his own life. He ruined the future of the universe. It seemed ridiculous that one man could influence the fate of the entire existence, but somehow I knew that the Doctor was such a man, and that it wasn't the first time he gambled with such tremendous responsibility at stake.

"We could go back to this… station," I said finally. "Make sure that he's…"

"No," Jack shrugged and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "You were right. All of this… it doesn't add up. Not unless he's really… dead."

"And how it adds up if he is?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah, but listen - the Chameleon Circuit failing; the odd girl wandering into the TARDIS and picking the odd switch from the console full of odd switches; the spatial shift at landing; the resurrection trick." Jack got up slowly and walked around the steering panel to sit down next to me. He reached out and tapped my hand gently. "No, nothing adds up. As it would be the case if the Doctor really, really died. Nothing adds up and nothing ever will."

"But…" I started. Jack didn't let me finish.

"Listen," he whispered. "Listen."

"To what?"

"To _her_. To the TARDIS. She's grieving. She's so weak, she's dying, and she's grieving. And yet her last act, her last deed was saving me. And you. Her last action was bringing us back to life. Two Lazaruses in a row," he chuckled. "Good old girl, the TARDIS."

I felt tears rising in my eyes. I had to blink quickly to stop them.

"What will happen now?" I asked.

"The Daleks conquer the universe," Jack said slowly. "They change it in their image. Everything that is free, everything that has a soul and heart and conscience – dies. Gets replaced by metal and anger. That's the end of all things, Ania."

For a long while we sat in silence.

"Let's go home," Jack said at last.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**


	7. Completely and Totally Lost

Thanks a lot for reviews! Hope I'm not too depressing:)

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Completely and Totally Lost**

* * *

"A manual?" I turned to Jack and looked at him cautiously, suspecting another joke. "Does the time-and-space ship have a manual?"

"All ships do," Harkness said angrily. "User's manual. And it has to be here… somewhere."

"Yeah," I nodded, "Sure. Have you even _seen_ that ship? I mean – the _whole_ ship? It is _ginormous_! We can look for the manual till the end of time. And even if we'd found it, will it be written in English?"

"I suspect it will be written in Gallifreyan," Jack said. "Why?"

"_I can't read Gallifreyan_!"

"Yes you can." He smiled. "The TARDIS is translating for you; in your head – all the time."

"_I_ am translating for myself – in my own head. Right now I am translating your English; which is not my first language by the way; in my head, into the words I understand," I said. "I found some books in the library here, and I couldn't understand a word of them. There were even books written in symbols I've never seen before in my life. So – no instantaneous translation, sorry."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he winked at me. "Unless you speak Boeshanesean as well."

"What?"

"My language. I'm speaking it now."

"No, you're not!"

Jack shrugged slightly. "I am. You just assumed it was English. What is _your_ first language, anyway?" he asked.

"Polish," I growled back at him.

"Well then, say something in Polish," he encouraged me; a wide and bright smile across his face, blue eyes glimmering. He was way too handsome, and at times he seemed very dangerous. Ever since he regained consciousness I didn't feel completely safe with him – he was like a domesticated panther – he could go berserk at any moment. His mood swings were worse than mine. I glared at him.

"Oh, _pocałuj mnie w dupę_!" I growled, irritated.

Harkness laughed tilting back his head.

"Are you sure?" He winked at me again. "I'd rather be kissing your mouth… for now."

I didn't blush, because I don't blush easily. And I was too angry to blush anyway. Scared too. Just a little bit.

"Are you having fun?" I snapped. "Because this is not funny! Unless we find a way to pilot this ship, we can never go home. We can never go anywhere. And, I don't know, but, how long do you think we can survive here? There's void outside. No air, no warmth, nothing. And we have to breathe. We have to eat."

"I don't think we'll run out of air anytime soon," Jack shrugged slightly. "But food might be a problem."

"Yeah!" I sighed. I glared at the dashboard, cluttered with weird tools and wires. Every passing minute was making it look more and more beyond-repair-ish. Even the ship's melody had changed – there were long moments of almost complete silence. I was under the impression that the TARDIS was dozing off now and then, as if too tired to struggle. She was keeping us warm and relatively safe, but what would happen if and when she gave up? The almost absolute zero temperature would creep inside and kill the both of us. Or we could lose the air.

Jack must have reached the same conclusion as he threw the spanner across the steering room and sat heavily on the rugged settee.

"I used to know this mechanic once," he said bitterly. "Claimed that with a little TLC you could fix almost anything. Sure, he didn't fix our relationship… although TLC was nice. Things he could do with his hands. Magic fingers, I called him. Tried to teach me mechanics, but… Never paid attention." Jack sighed. "But I fitted the extrapolator here, you know?" he continued. "Yeah, that didn't end well. But it wasn't my fault either. Oh, damn, the Doctor made it seem so easy! A spin here, a switch there, an occasional hammer to the console, and there it was. I have flown many ships in my life, but this… I just don't know where to start."

He sounded honest now – for a change. He was probably just pretending, for my sake; all the jokes and winks – keeping up appearances if you like; trying not to scare me even more.

"Can we send a distress signal?" I asked sheepishly.

"We could," Jack answered gloomily from his settee. He threw a piece of plastic he had in the other hand across the room – it hit the wall and ricocheted back towards the console.

"Let's do it then," I said.

"It's just, space is not exactly a small place," Harkness grumbled. "We can be thousands of light years away from anyone who'd be able, and willing, to help us. Or it could be the Daleks listening."

I clenched my fists and halted my breath for a very long while. Then I exhaled slowly.

"Let's assume we've found the manual, then…" I started.

Jack closed his eyes.

"Oh, who am I kidding!" he exclaimed. "It takes a Time Lord to fly this dammed box, and I'm no Time Lord! Neither are you! None of us is a fuc…"

He jumped up so suddenly I gasped, and reached to his left wrist. He had a wide leather wristband there, rather worn and ancient-looking. He lifted the flap. There was a small screen underneath – nothing fancy – just something resembling an old-fashioned digital watch. Green numerals were flicking across the narrow screen. Jack stared at them for a while.

"I'm stupid!" he said after a while. "Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"My vortex manipulator." Jack said, still glaring at the wristband. "I've got a time machine as well. I've had it all the time! Now, it's a bit rough, and a bit unpredictable, but, to think about it, so is the TARDIS. We could get out. We could go back to Earth."

I was on my feet already. I grabbed his forearm and stared hungrily at the device on his wrist.

"Can you take me home?" I pleaded.

"Yes," he answered. "More or less. It's risky. It's possible. But the TARDIS…"

The lights dimmed for a second, as if the ship could understand his words. There was a long, low note in the air.

"Can we go _home_?" I repeated.

Captain Harkness looked around. His face was blank, but his eyes glimmered with reflected light – sea-water blue. He touched the steering panel gently and sighed again.

"Well," he whispered. "Think that's only right."

He reached out to me and I grabbed his strong, calloused hand feeling that my heart might just explode. I observed him tapping some commands into the vortex manipulator. My palm got sweaty. I was going home! This absurd trip was to be over soon! I was going back!

"Hold on tight!" Jack said. He looked up for a moment. He took in the ship's interior – all the odd angled pillars, lights, almost organic structures, rusty mechanisms and mismatched technologies. "I'll be missing you, old girl," he muttered. "Still, _he_ wanted you to go quietly. Wouldn't be too happy if _I_ inherited you. The Daleks won't find you here, and that's a plus… Still, it's a waste… Such a waste…"

He wrapped his arm around me. Suddenly I felt safe, with this tall, strong man, taking care of me; his unpredictability and mood swings completely forgotten. I rested my head on his shoulder. I could swear he kissed me briefly on the top of my head, but I didn't mind. I was sad for the TARDIS, but I was also happy to leave it and all the sadness behind. None of it was my world. None of it was my business. I had been kidnapped, and now I was going back. Nothing else mattered.

"The TARDIS," Jack said in a loud, level voice. "The last in existence. The most amazing ship of the most amazing race of people; now gone, forever. Remember her, Ania. Remember the Doctor – in the TARDIS – travelling across time and space. Here ends the greatest adventure of all. Thus ends the legend."

He sighed and pushed a button of his vortex manipulator, and at the same exact moment there was a sound of a bell – low and reverberating through the whole ship. I felt a sudden pull which almost dislocated my shoulder. I looked up and saw Jack being sucked into a whirlpool of blue and silver light. There were whole clouds of radiance swirling behind him, bolts of energy as vast as galaxies, and areas of the deepest darkness – all of them swirling, and twisting, and turning into a lengthy tunnel – a time vortex itself.

Jack was screaming. His fingers dug into my hand; I could feel his fingernails piercing my skin. The vortex howled, and all the time the bell tolled – deep, bass notes, shaking my bones. I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth to draw breath there was no air. Jack's face was frosting over; first his eyelashes and eyebrows, then fine hair on his cheeks, then tears in his eyes. At the same time I was burning. I was bathed in the orange light, suffocating. My hand was sweaty and slippery and I knew that I had to let go of Jack's hand, or get torn in half. The pain was unbearable. But I couldn't let go.

I was holding him – I was holding him back. Jack was suspended over the vortex in time in space, and the only thing holding him there was my hand. My burning hand.

The peal of the bell was like a roar of an earthquake now. It was deafening.

The vortex was howling and changing colours – first there was purple glow, then greenish clouds, then sickly yellow sparks, and finally all turned blood red, as scarlet cracks sped across the vortex's walls. Shards of ice broke off Jack's lips as he shouted something, lost in the roar.

Time was falling apart. Space was wrapping on itself, strangling us. And still I was holding on – an anchor between two points in time-space continuum.

He could not go alone! He could not leave me!

Jack's face went pale, his eyes rolled upwards for a moment, as he gasped for breath again. He was dying, I realised, and I was dying as well – nobody could survive this colossal pull of reality being torn apart.

I had to let go.

I opened my sweaty fingers and felt Jack's fingernails tearing long strips of my skin as they scratched my palm.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed.

For a split second his blue eyes widened in terror, as he was floating– weightless and free. Then tremendous power gripped at him and he was gone – snatched out and into the vortex.

I fell backwards, just as the hole in the continuum sealed itself with a negative of a detonation. The bell was still ringing. My arm was on fire, and my hand was bleeding. I struck the floor with the back of my head, but it didn't really matter.

Something went wrong and Jack was gone. And I was alone again. Alone in the TARDIS.

"You couldn't let me go," I whispered.

I wasn't even angry. The shock was just too great.

But I think that was the very moment when I died.

Not _really_, you know. Not the way you die. I continued breathing and moving and my heart kept pumping blood through my body. I got up from the floor, eventually, and I went to this huge bedroom, and I slept for many hours, because I couldn't cry any more. But something certainly died in me when I lost Jack Harkness.

Hope, I presume.

That moment, when I was still sprawled on the floor, shell-shocked and exhausted, I realised I was never going back. I lost my home. I wasn't Ania anymore. I was just a strange traveller in a strange blue box. Completely and totally lost.

The bell went silent.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_


	8. The Interlude Wakey wakey!

I guess I missed HIM too much:) Did you?

* * *

**The Interlude**

**Wakey – wakey!**

* * *

His eyes snapped open. Three things happened almost simultaneously. He tried to sit up, there was a searing pain in his throat and neck and a wave of shock streamed across his body.

Restraints.

But it meant he wasn't dead.

Surprise, surprise.

He slowly turned his head to the left, where, with a corner of his eye, he could see a movement. It was just a blur, but a blur in motion.

"Where, on earth, am…" He stopped mid-word with a little choking sound and involuntarily pulled a funny face as he swiped the tip of his tongue across his front teeth. They were unusual. No… They were new.

New teeth.

New Doctor.

Not dead. Just new. A new Doctor chained to the floor. In the dark. Always in the dark. Was there a single regeneration that _didn't_ go wrong for him at some point? How very annoying! Or, actually – quite marvellous!

He gasped and a spiral of golden light escaped his mouth to disperse slowly in arid and cold air. The sensation was exhilarating – a new body, a new set of brain cells, new teeth, new eyes, new… everything. He wanted to laugh and jump, and run in circles, and celebrate. He wanted to do a million things at once. A rebirth in a new body was a stark reminder of death, cheated for now, but ever-present. It made him jittery. So many things to do. So many unfinished businesses. So little time. They were just chemicals going mad in his brain, confused by the regeneration process – all the happy endorphins and serotonins making him giddy – but it felt great. _King of the world_ great.

Then the realization hit him. Rose was gone. The Daleks had won. The Earth was damned. He was a prisoner and the Universe was slowly rolling towards destruction. He had lost.

He was too high on neurotransmitters to actually feel sad about it, but he certainly could feel angry. There was plenty of adrenaline just waiting to be burned. He tore at his restraints.

"Daleks! _DALEKS_!"

"The prisoner will be quiet. The shouting will cease."

"Daleks!" the Doctor repeated, mad sparks in his bulging eyes. "You are a _LAUGH_! You hear me? A _LAUGH_!"

"What is the meaning of this comment?"

"You had me there, unarmed, alone, and you couldn't even kill me? _Cowards_! You lot, you are cowards! You are nothing like the Daleks I used to fight. You are their pale copies. You are a cosmic joke!"

Only one hateful shape emerged from out of the dark – a sort of a dull, military-dusty-khaki colour, the lens radiating blue light in the shadow. The Dalek moved closer and turned his eyestalk at the Doctor.

"The prisoner will restrain himself from further insults," it said in the screeching voice. "The prisoner will conserve his strength for the interrogation."

"Idiots!" the Doctor snorted. "There's nothing I will tell you."

"The Doctor's knowledge would drastically speed up the Daleks' conquest. The Doctor will disclose all his knowledge to the Daleks. The principles of time travel. The Time Lords' science. The knowledge of the future, of the universe, its civilizations, boundaries and treasures. With the Doctor's knowledge the Daleks will become invincible."

"Right, as if I would give you such an advantage," the Doctor giggled. "There is nothing you can do to make me speak. You have no leverage. With everything lost and gone, there is nothing you…"

"There is the world below," the Dalek interrupted. "The Earth."

"Ooooh…" the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Ooooh, that's rich, that… that is rich, Pepperpot. The Earth. That's _rich_." He pulled at the restraints with a sudden outburst of fury. "_You have no right to even_…"

Suddenly he cringed in pain and rolled his head from side to side, his eyes tightly shut. A stream of amber light escaped his lips again and hovered, trembling, in the air. The Dalek cautiously moved away.

The Doctor opened his eyes, but now he seemed confused. He blinked slowly and gasped for air.

"So you win," he whispered. "Oooo, _fantastic_!" He giggled again. "After all this years, all this struggle, all the deaths, the Time War ended here, and you've _won_!"

His clenched fists turned white, but he had a wide, manic grin on his face as he continued merrily: "Daleks! You've won! And _now_ you want me to tell you about the universe? _Now_? At the end of all things?"

With a shake of his head he laughed aloud. "All right then. I'll tell you. I'll tell you about the world. 'Cause otherwise you'll never know a first thing about it. Blind little beasts in your horrible armours. Never able to touch, to feel, to enjoy. Poor old Daleks."

"Where do we start, though, eh?" he asked, staring fixedly at the metal shape in the gloom. "Gallifrey? The Earth? The lights of the Medusa Cascade? It's a big old thing, the universe, and it is old, so old, so vast, so great… And now it'll all be just… _Dalek_… Now it'll all be just soulless and pointless, and dead!"

He squirmed in pain again, his eyes increasingly glossy and distant.

"A sudden storm over a Scottish loch?" he whispered, his voice breaking in pain. "Black clouds rolling across the sky; menacing and scary? The colour of the light as it vanes just before the outpour begins, when sunrays are pure silver against the darkness? A second sun rising in the south over the fields of silver grass and over white-trunked and blue-leafed trees? A new star being born out of the gases and dust of creation, swirling the matter around it in a gravity field and in turn giving birth to little whirlpools that soon will become planets and moons? The first Olympic Games? The hunting season on Varthavallis, with all court moving out and into the jungle, in a great procession of colour and sound? The Fifth Symphony of Wolfgang Amadeus? Mona Lisa? The Sunflowers? The great Avvis sculpture in the Capitol, reflecting the light seeping through the Dome? Forget-me-nots by a little stream? Hmmm? _Hmmm?_ Will you even _understand_, Dalek? Will you know what it meant? Will you _care_?"

He choked and coughed, twisting in his restraints. The Dalek shifted uneasily, apparently confused.

"Not much time," the Doctor gasped. "The regeneration… failing… All systems… failing…"

"What is the meaning of this?" the metal creature asked shrilly.

The Doctor looked at him with his new, large, brown eyes, full of sadness, and anger, and loss. "There's this little moon circling a gas giant of Haeron system; and at night the whole sky seems to be falling down on you; yellow and ochre and brown, like a dessert," he began purposefully. "The gravitational pull of the planet sways the moon's ocean so that its waters wander around the globe, and if you observe from the distance, the moon looks like a teardrop – because the water peaks like a mountain. The only intelligent life are Spckree – very much like tiny shellfish – and the water carries them up and down; and when they travel up and reach the gravitational peak – they call it _elevation_ – they believe that their gods communicate with them, speaking to them from the 'pale waters' in the sky."

"The pointless prattle will cease!" the khaki Dalek shouted.

"The Seven Gardens," the Doctor continued. "They are seven planets settled by the Abicchi, and they're _great_ gardeners – green fingers of the universe. The Ampla, the one closest to the sun, the temperatures reaching 600 degrees Celsius during a day – they planted fire ferns there – and they real fire, living…" he halted and moaned in pain. "...fire… ooooh, it's really bad… No, really, it is."

He blinked dazedly. "What's your name, then? Hmm? A designation? A number? Anything that makes you an individual, a_ you_?"

"The Doctor will be silent!" the Dalek uttered frantically.

"Aaaaah!" the Doctor yelled, tensing and arching his body as much as tight chains allowed. "Not much time… Can't stay… so… what else would you like to know? 'Cause, see, I can't control… Sorry, must _daaaaaash_…!"

His body relaxed and he fell back limply; his eyelids closing slowly over his unfocused eyes.

"Doctor?" the Dalek said whirring in spot, uncertain and confused. "Doctor?"

There was no answer. The Time Lord lay motionlessly, and only shallow breathing confirmed that he was still alive. The Dalek watched him for a long while, its eyestalk moving up and down the limp body, the iris of the lens opening and constricting slowly. Finally it whirred fully open and the Dalek moved away from the Doctor. It sent a signal and waited for an answer from the upper level of the ship. When the answer came, a holographic screen opened in the air, above the Doctor's unconscious body. The Emperor of the Daleks looked down from his monumental exoskeletal armour.

"Is the Enemy dead?" a powerful voice asked.

"The process of regeneration seems to be disrupted," the khaki Dalek answered. "The Doctor's organism is failing. His mind is corrupted. Is the project to be terminated at this point?"

For a long while the yellow eye of the Daleks' god scrutinised the Doctor's pathetic shape. There was no emotion in that constant stare; it was just watching, calculating, deciding life and death. Or there seemed to be no emotion.

"No," the Emperor said finally. "The Enemy lives. For so long he had been mocking us, defying us. But the Daleks' time has come at last. We'll let the last of the Time Lords live. We'll let him watch. We'll let him witness the true Dalek's glory. _Daleks reign supreme_!"

"_Daleks reign supreme_!" the khaki Dalek repeated shrilly.

The screen disappeared and the darkness fell over the unconscious Time Lord.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**


End file.
